The Perplex Parcel Pursuit Project (darkangel76 p Lotherio)

It was too rich, really, thought Luke, so pleased with himself. He wasn’t sure how she would take looking at him so closely, he’d almost considered a bandit kerchief, but that she couldn’t so much as look at him when, finally, they were close and she was boarding the ship, he was overcome with shear delight inside.

“I give you his ring,” he offered, tossing it to the deck as his eyes trailed those wondrously soft mounds of he budding womanhood. In his mind he thought this would be the view Mathieu may want but could never ask for, it was Luke who could be the better teacher. Mathieu longed to come to the front, but business was at hand, no matter how much Luke ogled the woman, it must be done he thought.

Moving slowly around her to grab at something off handedly, his eyes always on her figure, whether she wanted that gaze or not, “I assure you, you’d not like me to retrieve other parts of him as proof that he still lives.” Half a chuckle turned sinister, noting he would be capable of doing and indeed, if it were someone else other than himself, Luke could do it with a sense of joy even no matter how much Mathieu might squelch at the idea.

The off hand came up with binding ropes, “Now, come here Charlotte Granville, and give my your hands.” The left corner at his mouth curling up far more than it should have at the idea. Hopefully she complied and, all the same, he continued to speak as he grin ominously. “Is this what your Mr. De La Motte would have taught you? How to comply obediently with his every desire as he explored the deepest secrets of your womanhood to release you hidden pleasures?” Something rang true in there and yet, Luke intoned enough sarcasm to suggest it would be but fanciful dreaming just the same.

“Oh, rest assured no harm will come to your Mathieu, so long as you comply. Who knows, someday he may again be revealed to you.” If she came to him, he would bind her hands delicately with care least her skin be injured, belying some inner benignity that struck odds with his outward appearance, but still enough to keep her hands close. If she didn’t come to him, he certainly came to her with the moon glinting off the short stock of the lady finger. After a time when he was sure her hands were safe, he moved to open the vents to fill the ball further with hot air.

There was no other binding involved so much as once up in the air, the only real escape was death. A loose hand indicated she could take a seat is she so desired, his gondola comfortable for maybe 10 people, 20 if packed in to the point of injury. Enough seats to hint at the idea of romantic seclusion even for two people on a voyage such as this, given the right circumstance even. Once the anchor was away and the dirigible began to take to the wind, he turned to glance at her. He’d attend the rudder and engine to get them in the right direction once they were clear of the ground and city.

Charlotte could feel the man’s eyes on her, boring into her soul, as he drank in the sight of her figure. It made her uneasy, uncomfortable. This wasn’t admiration, this was something else and she didn’t like it. Not one bit. Oh how she longed for her tutor, wishing he’d somehow appear from above, swooping down completely unscathed. To then pick her up in his arms and whisk her away to lands unknown, anywhere far from this horrible man and the dreadful way in which he circled her, stalked her.

Shivering a bit more, Charlotte found her eyes prickling with tears when the abhorrent man finally opened his mouth. That voice! How it made her heart lurch! As his words struck her ears, she slowly stood up, her gaze still averted. Oh she couldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t! There was too much hatred for him boiling within her blood. One look, one glance and any courage she could manage would be washed away. Forever.

Suddenly, Charlotte saw a glint of light flash and a ring was pressed into her palm. Mathieu’s ring! Oh god, what had she done? She stared at the trinket for several long moments, her mind desperately trying to process what was going on. Did this man think a bauble would prove that her Mr. De La Motte was all right and unharmed? Did he? Just then, he ordered her to approach him, to allow him to bind her hands. More tears fell, words completely gone from her throat. With great reluctance, she walked over to her captor. She didn’t want to cause her Mr. De La Motte any more trouble than she’d already had. Oh, she was a silly girl! Just a silly, silly girl!

Charlotte placed the ring on her thumb before holding her hands out for this dreadful man to tie together. She caught a glimpse of the rope, her eyes staring out into nothingness. Her mind was blank, almost numb. The only thought remaining coherent – ‘Please let no harm come to my Mr. De La Motte.’

Silent tears fell from Charlotte’s eyes as the man began to bind her wrists. When he finished he began tending to his airship, adjusting and manipulating things to make it rise and sail the skies. Though she kept her eyes focused downward, she managed to notice the balloon inflating and it wasn’t long before they were adrift, leaving Viznay behind. For several long minutes, she just stood there. Her life was over. She’d ruined herself, but what was worse? She’d ruined the life of her tutor as well.

Sitting down, shivering, Charlotte could feel more hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked at the ring on her thumb, her heart pounding at the thought of her Mr. De La Motte. How she hoped he was all right. Safe. Swallowing, she dared herself to look over at the man holding the rudder. A chill ran down along her spine at the mere sight of him standing, lurking in those ghastly shadows.

“Please, sir. Please. I’ll do as you say, go wherever you need me to go…” Charlotte’s voice, laced with sincerity and desperation, suddenly trailed. “Please, sir. Just let Mr. De La Motte go. He is but an innocent man. By far the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. Please, sir. Spare him. Let him go at the nearest port. I beg you…” Again, her voice trailed.

Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to speak any longer. She was too distraught. It was clear this man had no heart, no soul. She wondered if he’d ever cared for anyone other than himself. She doubted it. The way his eyes lingered on her, she could tell he wasn’t the sort who could. He took. That was this man’s way.

Looking down at the ring she now wore, Charlotte then focused on how the metal felt against her skin. She needed to clear her mind, try her best to stay strong. She needed to recall a happy memory. Staring at the ring, taking in the feel of it, she pretended it was a gentle kiss upon her finger. One from the lips of her Mr. De La Motte.

As the ship cleared the city and the spires of Viznay loomed over the industrial city of wonders, Luke steered north at first again. With a look of contempt at the woman who had spoken so fondly of him, or Mathieu, he shook his head. “No man is innocent,” as an after thought perhaps. One hand still on the rudder, another hand lifted a metal bubble of sorts to reveal the ships compass and from here he began to navigate, setting north west, out and over the ocean. “I suggest you worry of your situation Lady Granville, you are in far more dire circumstance than your Mr. De La Motte, I assure you.”

Whether she spoke again, he contended himself with taking the dirigible up towards some of those wispy clouds. From the ground, they appeared like dark tendrils stretching eerily across the sky, reaching to take hold of the heavens perhaps. Yet, once they were cleared they became strings of moonlit pearls, capturing the moonlight splendidly. Far different from the waves below as they sailed onward, picking up a current of air that let Luke come round to unfurl a few side sails to make good time with this fortuitous weather.

He was all business, turning the balloon south finally, with mainland on the horizon. Time passed, with an occasional island flitting by underneath or turning up on the horizon out at sea. From time to time, he caught himself looking at Charlotte where ever she was and his eyes found that glorious bosom of hers, but as well, that pendant she wore. Why, if he wasn’t any surer, it was not unlike a pocket watch but he’d as of yet not seen her open the device.

Several hours further into the darkest part of the night, when they had sailed beyond the lands of Jaro and were heading into the islands at the center of Cordal, he caught her stirring. He paid no mind if she slept or reluctantly stayed awake with any sort of defiance, but when she moved this time, he caught the pendant catching the moonlight again. From his vantage, he’d found a comfortable seat near engine and rudder handle, but sitting lewdly with one leg cocked up and one hand resting on that knee.

“Lady Granville,” he finally called out through the wind filled silence around them, shifting such that he could gaze at her from under the dark brim of his hat, “I’ve noticed several times your hands toying at the broach dangling at your neck.” One way to put it certainly, the foot propped up on the bench came down so he could lean forward some and look directly at her. His body facing entirely in her direction as he did so, “It seems important to you.”

A lead into anything she might say, he would amend for clarification, “Understanding this is simple business, I imagine if you prize that so … you wouldn’t want it falling into certain hands.” Perhaps the closest his come to saying what this was all about after all. Maybe she’d be curious herself rather than dreading what was happening with Mathieu.

Charlotte had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes, hours? Then, she supposed it hardly mattered. Her life was in danger. And, in her own stupidity, she’d managed to place the most wonderful man she’d ever met in danger as well. She felt more than silly and knew her parents would lock her in her room forever if word of her actions ever reached their ears. Ah, but they wouldn’t. They’d never know. Not until it was too late. She’d already ruined herself now traipsing across the oceans with this abhorrent man whose eyes lingered too long in places they shouldn’t. Never had she felt so scrutinized, so vulnerable.

Sitting silently, Charlotte refused to speak to the man holding her captive. He didn’t deserve her conversation. Not if she could help it. The only man she longed to speak with was her Mr. De La Motte. How she desired to see his face as he smiled at her, telling her such vivid stories about faraway lands and… exotic teas. Closing her eyes briefly, she recalled that brush of flesh, that caress of lips. Just then, she looked down upon her bound wrists only to stare at the hand donning the ring.

“Mr. De La Motte…” Charlotte whispered, her eyes stinging with tears. “Mathieu.”

More hours passed, though Charlotte did not know as to how many. But from the way the moon shone in the inky sky, she could guess that it had been far fewer than it felt. After a while, her body finally betrayed her and she could no longer sit so still and upright. Slowly, she began to slump and eventually sleep consumed her.

When Charlotte opened her eyes, everything was still dark. The darkest shade of pitch, she could hardly see the shadowy silhouette of her captor across the way. But as far as she was concerned, that was for the best. She hated that man. And, if able, she’d give him a firm slap letting him know as much. But, given her situation, even if her hands had been free, it would have been a disadvantage to do such a thing. This man had no heart, no soul. He did not feel. It was quite plain. No. He’d merely react and the thought of that ladyfinger he carried on his person made her blood run cold. Oh yes, he’d use it. He would.

Letting her eyes adjust, Charlotte just listened to the sounds around her. She could hear the rolling waves below, feel the cold rush of air as it passed over the gondola. She shivered just then, wishing she could wrap her arms about herself to stave off the chill. Or, better yet, she wished her tutor was there beside her. Would he hold her now if he could? Would he try his best to comfort her? In heart she hoped that answer was ‘yes’. Oh, she hoped he was all right.

Suddenly, Charlotte’s thoughts were interrupted. That horrible man playing with her life shouted out, causing her to turn her head. Squinting her eyes, she tried to make out his outline, gain some sort of bearing on where he was and what he was doing. As he spoke, his tone no lighter than it had been when he’d first taken her aboard his airship, he inquired about the pendant. Her pendant? Why would such a trinket matter to him?

“It was a gift, sir,” Charlotte answered, upset that she had to speak to him before she was able to talk to her tutor. “From my father.” She squinted harder, trying to better see where the man was located. “I received it on my twentieth birthday, sir. I was told to take pride in wearing it for it meant the world to him.”

Charlotte wondered why this man would even care about hearing about a gift she’d received from her overprotective father. Though, she supposed it wasn’t very common in appearance as far as pendants went. In fact, it was quite unique. Often times in the past, she’d wondered if it could be opened somehow. It did resemble the pocket watches she’d seen her father and other distinguished men donning at balls and other important gatherings.

“Do you like it, sir?” Charlotte then asked, her curiosity only just starting to pique at why this man found the jewelry worth mentioning. “Perhaps you can find a way to open it then, sir?” She was toying with him slightly. Being curious and thinking that perhaps she might be able to gain a small amount of leverage, she then added, “If you can figure out how to open it, sir, I promise to be no further trouble to you. I will go willingly wherever it is you wish for me to go. No questions, no hesitations. And I’ll refrain from inquiring about Mr. De La Motte. But…” her voice trailed, her mind racing at the idea of possibly being able to help her tutor. “If you cannot, you free Mr. De La Motte and let him go at the next port. I promise to stay and do whatever you want. But, if you aren’t able to do it, I want your word that you will free him.”

Charlotte figured her request was sound enough. For the past two years she’d tried to open the pendant. Failing each and every time. There was no way a scoundrel such as this could ever hope to figure out how to open the thing. In fact, she was certain that it could not, that his attempt would be in vain. It was a relatively decent plan. The man would get what he wanted regardless, but at least her Mr. De La Motte would be safe. It was all she could do, all she had. It was worth a try. And, if by some strange chance, this man opened it… at least then she’d finally know what resided inside.